


A Taste of Freedom

by alcohen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Out of Character, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcohen/pseuds/alcohen
Summary: Harry sees Draco for the first time after graduation. He has purple hair, a septum piercing and a tattoo on his neck. “What are you staring at, Potter? Am I insulting your sense of beauty? I’m not playing by anyone’s rules anymore. At least, now I’m free.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks HELVIK for the brilliant idea <3

If someone asked Harry what he was doing here, he would struggle with an answer, although his memory was perfectly fine. It’s just that he wouldn’t be able to explain his actions with the usual pragmatic reasons. He wasn’t on a mission, he wasn’t working undercover, he wasn’t meeting a friend. Damn, he couldn’t even blame it on Dennis – his colleague – who usually tried to get him into some weird-looking places with the basic excuse of all time: “I’m curious.”

No, this time Harry had to admit that he got here due to his own choices. First, while heading home from the Auror office, Harry thought that it would be nice to have a pint or two. But it was Monday, and his favourite pub was closed, so Harry decided that any place was good enough to have a beer. Even this bar with a neon sign and several tattooed girls smoking outside. Of course, he stood out in the crown because of his Auror uniform, but who cares, right? Besides, he did get himself a beer, and the light electropop music was surprisingly soothing.

“Who’s the singer?” Harry asked the guy behind the bar, whose short hair and athletic body for some reason contrasted with the low cut t-shirt, tucked in his skinny jeans. The guy turned around, and Harry blinked as he noticed eyeliner on his eyes.

“She’s Muggle,” he answered. “Billie Eilish. If you go out in the Muggle part of London, you must have seen her face on the billboards.”

Harry told the barman that he didn’t really go out in Muggle London, but he did like the song.

“If you’re into this kind of stuff, you should go here,” the guy picked up a flyer on the bar and handed it to Harry. “Today’s the last day of the festival, you shouldn’t miss it.”

The piece of paper glowed in Harry’s hands. He hadn’t heard of the bands listed on it. It seemed like music has took several steps forward since Harry had last listened to the radio at the Burrow.

“I guess it’s a bit late to go there,” he said hesitantly.

“Are you kidding me, the last day’s the best!” the barman retorted. “It’s not even 10 pm, the main set’s about to start, it’s perfect timing.”

Harry touched the glowing Apparition coordinates and tried to figure out why the idea of going to a concert was so tempting. He had never been to a festival before: Ron and Hermione weren’t outdoor people – which was totally understandable, keeping in mind the number of journalists chasing them around – and Ginny was always at some sports event. Well, and even when she was there, something felt wrong. Either way, going to a concert didn’t seem like a good idea – Harry still had to finish the report on the last mission, and sleeping before work wasn’t generally a bad thing…

Thinking of responsibilities felt almost physically suffocating. Harry only managed to cope with the pace of Auror duties because Ron was there to cheer him up, plus, Dennis’ stupid ideas kept him from feeling trapped in the routine. On top of the difficult job, Kingsley somehow talked Harry into attending one official event after another, where he was forced to smile, keep a straight face and politely answer tactless questions. By the way, wasn’t there another dinner planned this weekend?..

This was the final straw. Harry strongly felt that if he didn’t go out and unwind right now, he wouldn’t be able to make it until the end of the week. He thanked the barman, grabbed the flyer and went out the back door to Disapparate, without letting himself think it through.

This is how he got here. The festival was held in a place that looked like an abandoned factory: to the left of the stage there was a high brick chimney, half-dismantled narrow gauge rails were found here and there, the blue and purple stage lights reflected off the broken windows of the long two-storey pavilion on the right, where one could buy drinks or food.

Harry didn’t regret once that he had come. The music was really good, the people in the crowd didn’t care about who he was, and for the first time in his entire life Harry felt like he could do whatever he wanted, without caring about what people could think. It felt so good he wasn’t sure it was true.

Several hours later he left the crowd, soaking wet after dancing so long, and headed to the pavilion to get himself a drink. As he approached the entrance, a skinny guy with purple hair drew his attention: he was standing with his back to Harry, smoking. The sight of the cigarette and the casual way the guy flicked the ashes reminded Harry of how he used to smoke about once a week – that was before Hermione had lectured him on the outcomes. Suddenly, Harry realised that right now he didn’t give a fuck about the odds of developing lung cancer, and went over to the guy.

“Hey, do you happen to have another cigarette?” he asked, without bothering to introduce himself.

The guy took a long drag on his cigarette, threw his head back to look at the dark sky and replied:

“This is the last one I’ve got.”

Something in his voice sounded familiar, so Harry made a step forward.

“Oh, okay. Have we met?”

The guy put his cigarette out against the pavilion wall and turned to face Harry.

“I don’t…”

His eyes met Harry’s and he stopped talking in surprise. Finally, he tossed his purple hair off his forehead.

“Potter,” he said defensively.

Harry didn’t answer. It was Malfoy – there was no way Harry would not recognise him – but it wasn’t the Malfoy he was used to at Hogwarts. The expensive suit was gone; instead, he was wearing baggy clothes and a pair of sneakers, his nose was pierced, and a magic tattoo shimmered on his neck. Wow, those were unexpected changes. 

“What are you staring at, Potter? Am I insulting your sense of beauty?”

“No,” Harry answered, surprised, because it was true. “Quite the contrary, actually.”

Malfoy shoulders dropped and he seemed to relax a bit.

“Do you still want a cigarette?” he asked.

“I thought this was your last one.”

“It’s the last one for strangers,” Malfoy replied and took two cigarettes out of his pocket. “Here.”

Harry hesitated for a second, then took the hand rolled cigarette and sat down on a concrete block nearby. Malfoy joined him, settling down cross-legged.

“So what are you doing here?” he asked, lighting his cigarette.

“You’re not the only one who likes music,” Harry answered.

“I have never seen you here before. Besides, you are wearing your uniform,” Malfoy eyed his Auror pants and boots. “Therefore I conclude that you didn’t plan on coming here.”

Harry shrugged.

“It was a last-moment decision.”

Malfoy threw his head back and exhaled slowly, letting the smoke out of his mouth. The tattoo on his neck – a wonderfully drawn sea landscape – moved with a gust of wind, and Harry was so impressed he almost stopped breathing. Malfoy noticed this and smiled.

“Want one too? I can give you the artist’s contacts.”

“I don’t think Kingsley would approve,” Harry said resentfully. “Though I’d pay a high price to see his face.”

“I didn’t ask if Kingsley would approve,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I asked if _you_ wanted one.”

Harry took a drag on his cigarette, not really knowing what to say. He never asked himself what he wanted. He was so busy thinking of responsibilities and duty, he’d never had the time to think of himself.

“Let me guess: you don’t know,” Malfoy said in an ironic tone. “Well then, think.”

Harry ignored the guess, even though it hit close to home. The weirdness of the situation was bothering him more and more. Who was this Malfoy, sitting next to him? Why were they having a calm conversation? What’s with the ring in his nose, goddamn it?!

“Where does it all come from?” Harry asked. “Why do you look like this?”

Malfoy sighed and stared at his cigarette.

“Do we have to go through this?” he sounded annoyed.

“It’s just that I don’t get it. You were always… You’re…” Harry stumbled on his words. He didn’t know how to phrase the feeling.

“I was always _what_? A Malfoy?” he snapped, and Harry nodded. “If only you knew how tired I was of being a Malfoy! I’m not playing by anyone’s rules anymore. At least, now I’m free.”

“So this is a riot?”

“Not every opinion is a riot, Potter. But I suppose you can't explain this to my father,” Malfoy calmed down a bit and took another smoke. “What about you? Are you happy with your life?”

Harry thought of the ministry workers and their tired faces, the Auror raids, the reports and the awkwardness with Ginny.

“No,” he answered simply. It was the first time in several years that he allowed himself to be honest about this.

“Why don’t you change anything?”

Harry put out his cigarette.

“I don’t know. First I lived to kill Voldemort, but then it turned out that people were expecting even more achievements from me…”

Malfoy gave him a sympathetic look.

“Potter, you don’t owe them anything.”

“But I already work in the Auror office, and Kingsley…”

Malfoy put his hand on Harry’s forearm, forcing him to stop talking.

“To hell with Kingsley. You only have one life. Live it before it’s too late.”

Harry exhaled sharply. Malfoy was stroking his forearm, and Harry realised that, surprisingly, he liked the feeling. Malfoy must be right. There he was, with all the purple hair, the neck tattoo and the piercing, looking stunning in his confidence that he had never had before. Harry thought that maybe he should gain some as well.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admitted quietly.

Malfoy’s lips curled in an understanding smile.

“Pick something and do it. It doesn’t matter what, as long as it’s something you really want.”

Malfoy’s hand was still on Harry’s forearm, and Harry knew exactly what was it that he wanted to do in this precise moment. He hesitated for a bit, then covered Malfoy’s cold fingers with his hand; Malfoy didn’t move away. Harry leaned over and kissed him a little too abruptly, and when Malfoy kissed back, running his fingers through Harry’s hair and breathing heavily, Harry felt completely sure that he was doing the right thing.

When the kiss finally ended, Malfoy put his hand on Harry’s neck, his forehead against Harry’s, and whispered:

“Now _that_ father would definitely consider a riot.”

“But it’s not?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Nope,” Malfoy chuckled. “Even I don’t kiss people just to piss my father off. It’s more of a pleasant side-effect.”

Harry laughed and kissed him again. He had never seen Malfoy so close and was surprised to find out that he had freckles. It was nice and a little strange at the same time to note a detail like this.

“Will you help me figure it out?” Harry asked as the blueish stage lights gave Malfoy’s eyes a particularly beautiful glow.

Malfoy smiled promisingly.

“You bet.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the fic takes a direction you might not expect...

Harry’s week was full of hasty decisions and unpleasant conversations. In any circumstances would it have been joyful to break up with Ginny, knowing her explosive character, but this was the one thing that actually went well. Ginny was upset, but not surprised, as if she had seen it coming, which led Harry to believe that she understood him remarkably well.

And even if Harry was determined to start a new life, he was in no way ready to disappoint people, so he rushed to start the conversation whenever he felt confident enough. Bennet, the Head Auror, was so surprised that he forgot the golden rule he used in all unclear situations – scare the shit out of your employees until they agree with you – and instead tried to convince Harry to take a week off before quitting the job altogether. This might have worked a week before, but Harry had reached the point where even a faint possibility of returning to the Auror office sounded like a nightmare. Harry and Bennet’s heated argument still resonated in Harry’s head when he got back home.

This was quite stressful, but Harry was kind of proud that he was able to stand up for himself. So when two days later he found out that Ron was convinced Harry was going to come back after a good rest, because, obviously, that’s what Bennet had told the staff, Harry was furious. Besides, he still hadn’t figured out how to drop out of the Ministry events without being too rude, which made him feel childish and weak. By Saturday he got tired of being stuck and scribbled a quick letter to Malfoy, hoping that he would help.

They hadn’t seen each other since Monday, and Harry started to feel like the image of the purple hair and the tattoo was but a figment of his imagination, a hallucination produced by his exhausted mind. But Malfoy dispelled Harry’s doubts by owling back a brief note saying, “Well that’s a start. Wanna come over to my place this evening? We’re having a party. Floo: Honey badger.”

At eight o’clock Harry stepped out of the fireplace and found himself in what looked like a living room of a regular, not too tidy flat. Clothes and books were lying all around the place: on the big shabby sofa, piled up on the rectangular coffee table next to a glass half-full of ashes and cigarette buds. A colourful tapestry was nailed to the wall above the sofa, and next to the window there were several goblet shaped drums with potted plants on top of them.

Somebody was arguing in the hallway.

“Why would you invite the goddamn saviour, Draco?” Harry heard an irritated voice say. “He won’t understand…”

“Give him a chance, I’m sure he’ll…” Malfoy retorted in a low voice. The person he was speaking to didn’t sound convinced.

“Yeah, if he’s gonna be one of those _I identify as a war helicopter_ guys, I swear, I’ll…”

“Shut up, Tony, this is not going to happen. It’s my place too, okay?” Draco hissed as he entered the living room right in time to see Harry’s embarrassed expression. Showing up at Malfoy’s was awkward enough even without witnessing a scene.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he mumbled as Tony eyed him suspiciously from the doorway.

Draco was as real as he could be, this time wearing a washed-out t-shirt tucked in his cropped blue jeans.

“Never mind, Potter, you’re welcome here,” he said. “This is my flatmate Tony, they’re also the drummer in our band.”

“They?” Harry repeated, amused. “They, as in ‘we, the King?’”

“I told you so,” Tony said to Draco, arms folded.

Malfoy gestured at Tony to be quiet.

“Tony’s non-binary,” he explained, but Harry still didn’t get it.

“What’s non-binary?”

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but Tony was faster and snapped:

“Google it!”

Harry felt even more helpless. He could tell that the conversation was pissing Tony off, but he had no clue of what was going on.

“Google?” he asked, trying to sound as apologetic as possible.

Tony let out an irritated sigh.

“For heaven’s sake, weren’t you raised by Muggles?”

“I was, but that was a long time ago,” Harry said, as Malfoy covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled laugh.

Tony gave both of them an angry glare.

“Fuck this, I’m out. But if you,” Tony pointed at Harry, “dare call me a ‘he’, you are never coming back here again.”

Malfoy was still laughing nervously as Tony slammed the door.

“Sorry, it’s really not about you,” Draco said. “Tony’s just pissed that I didn’t let them know I invited you to the party. It’s going to be fine, trust me. Oh, but you really should use the “they” pronoun with Tony. You can’t imagine the number of people who get this wrong, that’s where all of this is coming from.”

He made an inviting gesture, and Harry followed him into the kitchen, where several pans were roasting something that looked like noodles and vegetables. Malfoy cast a spell Harry was unable to identify on one of the pans, and it started tossing the veggies. Once again, Harry felt like all of this was some kind of weird dream.

“Want a beer?”

Harry shifted in his chair and nodded, thinking to himself that alcohol was exactly what he needed right now, and took the cold bottle that Malfoy handed him. Draco opened another one for himself and leaned on the windowsill. Harry coughed, trying to think of a way to fill the silence.

“So, what’s google?” he asked finally, and the question made Malfoy chuckle again.

“Isn’t it hilarious that I know it and you don’t?” he took a sip from his bottle. “It’s like a library search spell, but on the computer. I’ve never used it, though.”

Harry was pretty impressed by the clarity of the answer; he wouldn’t have ever thought that Malfoy would end up explaining Muggle stuff to him. It was a curious feeling: thinking you know someone so well, and yet not knowing them at all.

“I haven’t used a computer since I was fourteen, I guess,” Harry said. “Well, then I’ll search for the non-binary thing. Unless you want to explain that as well.”

He couldn’t help but give Draco an ironic smile.

“Oh no, I’m no Google,” he smiled back and sat at the kitchen table next to Harry. “I’d rather you told me how come you couldn’t resign.”

Harry sighed and put down his bottle.

“Bennet won’t accept it, apparently. I found out a few days ago that he told the staff I was taking a week off.”

“So are you coming back in a week?”

“Hell no!” Harry shook his head fiercely.

“Then you probably should let him know,” Malfoy leaned on the wall and took another sip, looking at Harry, who was surprised to discover that the genuine interest in Malfoy’s eyes didn’t shock him anymore.

“I did. We yelled at each other in front of the whole damn department. I guess he’s just hoping I’ll cave in.”

“Prick.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a minute or so, and this time it felt natural. Harry wanted to ask Malfoy how he managed to convince his family that the life he had chosen for himself was worth it, but it seemed to be an intimate topic, so Harry kept the question to himself.

“You did break up with Weasley, though.” Malfoy said as he got up, took the pans off the fire and cleaned the stove with a spell. He didn’t ask anything, but Harry could tell he was curious.

“Yeah, well, it had to happen sooner or later,” Harry said, his eyes fixed on the bottle as he absentmindedly scratched the golden label with his nail. “What about you and Tony, are you… er…”

Malfoy turned to face Harry, his eyebrows lifted.

“Dating? Is that what you’re asking?”

Harry nodded, trying his best to look relaxed. The ironic look Draco gave him hinted to the fact that he didn’t really succeed.

“If we were, it wouldn’t have been a smart move to invite _you_ then, would it?” Malfoy answered. Harry was still puzzled, so Draco rolled his eyes and added, “I’m not dating anyone, gosh.”

Harry felt relieved and at the same time confused about what was going on between them. There definitely was a thing, but it was too soon to know what exactly. So when the fireplace cracked several times, announcing the arrival of the others, Harry was more than happy to change the subject.

Malfoy headed to the living room, yelled, “TONY, THEY’RE HERE!” and gave a hug to each of the guests. Harry nodded awkwardly, clutching his beer, trying not to stare too much as Malfoy introduced him to the others.

“Okay, people,” he announced, “this is Harry, he’s having a bit of a rough time these days, so I invited him over. Harry, these are my friends, Annalise and Finn.”

“Merlin, look at these famous guests, this flat has just gained in price,” Finn said to Draco. At this point, Tony entered the living room, and the edgy girl Draco called Annalise rushed to hug him.

“It’s been a long time!” Tony grinned, hugging her back. “How was it? Muggle London?”

“Ugh,” Annalise sighed and sat on the couch. “It’s more difficult than I expected. Turns out the Confundus…”

She cut herself short and glanced at Harry.

“You’re an Auror, aren’t you?” she asked suspiciously. Harry shook his head.

“I quit.”

She was still not at her ease, so Malfoy nodded shortly.

“It’s okay, Annalise, _he’s_ okay.”

“Well, then,” she hesitated for a second before continuing, “I was saying: Confundus doesn’t work, because apparently different doctors look at your file when you’re not there, so obviously they can see it’s fake. I can’t follow them around for a week just to hex them when the time comes.”

“Shit,” Tony cursed. “What do you do now?”

“I have to get all the proper Muggle papers,” she answered. “Draco, do you have a beer or something? I am about to lose my mind, and I’m not doing it sober.”

Draco waved his wand and a pack of beer, as well as the pans full of noodles and vegetables flew in the room and landed on the table, pushing the pile of books off. Tony grabbed the books and shoved them under the sofa.

“I’ll get the dishes, I guess they’re dirty,” he said and ran off. Draco sat down on the floor in front of Annalise, and Harry settled down next to him. The necessity to use Confundus on a Muggle doctor didn’t make sense to Harry. He couldn’t even think of a reason to choose Muggle doctors over qualified Healers.

“Um, why don’t you go to St. Mungo’s?” he asked.

Finn took out a cigarette and lit it with his wand.

“Because St. Mungo’s doesn’t give a shit about trans people. If you want your hormones, you better not be scared of Muggles,” he explained. Harry had already heard of trans people before – probably via Hermione, but he thought it was a Muggle thing.

“Oh,” Harry nodded, surprised. “But why?”

“Ask your friends in the Ministry why they won’t approve the potion. The research has been done years ago, but these bastards won’t allow it on the market,” Annalise said grumpily. “The wizarding trans committee writes letters every year, but the Wizengamot won’t even hear us out.”

“That sucks. Well, I’m sure you could find something on the black market,” Harry suggested, which made Tony, who came back with the plates, laugh out loud.

“He is sweet, isn’t he?” Finn chuckled, flicking the ashes into the glass. “He thinks there is a potioneer who would care enough for trans people to break the law.”

Harry glanced helplessly at Malfoy, only to find that he too found the situation amusing.

“Well, to be fair, you can find a lot of things on the black market,” Draco conceded, still smiling.

“Yeah, we’ll have to wait till there’s a trans potioneer for that,” Annalise concluded. “In the meantime, I’m stuck with the Muggles. By the way, anyone knows what a birth certificate is supposed to look like?”

For the first time in the evening, Harry was glad to know what they were talking about, so he tried to answer Annalise’s question. Tony, as a Muggle-born, also had a couple of things to say, and Harry was pleased to see that they were getting along pretty well. Draco sipped his beer and smiled with the corner of his lips while he listened, and this discreet attention finally made Harry feel like he was welcome here.

“Um, what if I brought you mine?” Harry asked, realising that his explanation was vague at best. “I’m sure I still have it. It’s a bit old, but we are about the same age anyway, right? We could make a copy and then just alter it a bit.”

Annalise was thrilled, but Harry barely noticed it, because Draco’s hand was stroking his knee under the table. A faint memory of a Ministry dinner he was supposed to attend tonight crossed Harry’s mind, only to leave him truly satisfied with the fact that he missed it. He was far more comfortable here, sitting on the floor, talking of things he barely heard of before, feeling the tips of Malfoy’s fingers on his knee. It all felt right.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry left Malfoy’s flat at the same time as Annalise and Finn and promised to drop by with the birth certificate. The next day he woke up at noon, back at Grimmauld place. He got up, showered, wrote a letter to Bennet, then to Ron and Hermione, asking if they were free – he couldn’t wait to tell them about the party, Annalise, and, of course, Draco. Hermione owled back almost at once, apologising and saying they were still out of town. Disappointed, Harry tried to read, but couldn’t stay concentrated: his thoughts slipped, and he found himself thinking of the party again and again. Finally, he decided to go back to Malfoy’s with the birth certificate – he did promise to bring it soon, so it seemed to be the perfect excuse to see each other again.

A few hours later Harry stepped out of the fireplace of Draco’s flat and instantly tripped over a pile of books.

“Who the hell reads so much?” he mumbled to himself, leaning down to pick them up.

“I do, and you better have a good reason to be here.”

Harry hadn’t heard this particular annoyed voice before. He looked up to see a tall girl who was passive aggressively rolling her wand between her fingers. She had long brown hair with an undercut; the cat-eye make-up only emphasized the suspicious look she gave Harry.

“Who are you, again?” she insisted.

“I’m here to see Draco,” Harry answered.

“Oh,” she calmed down, nodded understandingly and settled down on the couch. “All right then. I’m Iris.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ha-”

“DRACO!” Iris yelled, paying no attention whatsoever to Harry’s attempts of being polite. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Never mind. Does everybody yell in this house?”

“What do you want me to do, send him a Patronus? And let go of my books already.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry turned around, looking for a spot that wasn’t already taken by books or clothes. There was no room on the coffee table, so he finally put them on one of the drums by the window. “I didn’t see you here yesterday.”

“I had to visit my parents,” Iris explained. “But normally I live here. Draco and I are… er… third cousins, I guess.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said, surprised. “You didn’t study at Hogwarts, did you?”

“My parents chose home schooling,” she answered simply. “Can’t say I was upset to miss that authoritarian school of yours.”

The door of the living room creaked, and Harry couldn’t help smiling when he saw Draco come in.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at each other for a short moment, then Harry remembered why he was there.

“I brought the birth certificate,” he took the folded paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. “I hope that’ll help.”

“It will,” Draco assured him as he skimmed the certificate. “I see you’ve already met Iris.”

“Yep.”

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets, not quite sure if he could stay. Fortunately, Malfoy looked up at him almost at once.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked.

“Why not,” Harry was relieved that he wasn’t the only one hoping for some privacy.

“Come on then,” Draco nodded in the direction of the kitchen, and Harry followed him.

The kitchen was a busy mess: Tony was baking something, so all of the surfaces were covered with either ingredients or bowls full of batter.

“Hi, Tony,” Harry said. “What are you baking?”

“A layer cake,” Tony answered, opening the oven and poking the contents of a baking circle with a long match.

“Ah, isn’t it Henry’s birthday?” Draco asked as he opened the fridge to get the beer. “Is he coming over?”

“No, I’m going to his place,” Tony replied, now adding something to one of the bowls. “Wish me luck.”

“It’s going to be fine, I’m sure. You should see the way he looks at you,” Draco assured them. 

“I hope you’re right,” Tony mumbled, mixing the batter. “Now leave me alone, please, I need this cake to be perfect.”

Draco gently touched Harry’s forearm.

“Let’s go to my room then.”

Harry followed Draco through the dark corridor. The room turned out to be small, with only a bed, a desk and a closet. Malfoy put the bottles on the desk, stepped on the bed to get to the window and opened it; the smell of rain filled the room, and a fluffy but a little damp cat leapt on the windowsill from the outside.

“Hello, buddy,” Draco took the cat in his arms and scratched it behind the ears. “Got caught in the rain, huh?”

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Harry made his way around the bed to the window and stroked the cat as well.

“It’s not ours,” Draco replied. “But it comes here every now and then.”

The cat started purring and rubbed its head against Malfoy’s chin. Harry couldn’t help smiling, looking at the expression of pure delight on Draco’s face.

“You should get a cat,” Harry said.

“I will one day.”

He let the cat go; it jumped on the desk and rolled in the bits of parchment, threatening to push the bottles off. Harry reacted quickly enough: he grabbed the beer and stroked the cat again, but it was already too busy tearing up a red envelope. Harry frowned: the envelope was clearly a Howler.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” he started carefully, handing Draco one of the bottles and sitting on the bed next to him, “but there’s a Howler on your desk.”

Draco chuckled and took a sip of his beer.

“That’s no secret,” he said. “My father seems to have forgotten how to use ordinary letters.”

Harry frowned even more.

“How so?”

Malfoy sighed and put the bottle on the floor next to the bed.

“We aren’t exactly in good terms right now. I’ve been ignoring him for a while, to be honest.”

“I see.”

Harry was a bit confused: he was under the impression that Draco’s issues with his parents were a matter of the past, but, obviously, that wasn’t the case.

“I really don’t want to talk about my father,” Draco leaned back on his arms. “So, what are you going to do about Bennet?”

Harry found it a bit difficult to concentrate, as Draco’s shoulder was touching his own, and, once again, he had a perfect view of the tattoo on Draco’s neck. In the daylight it looked even better: the dotted work went perfectly well with the pale, freckled skin. Harry forced himself not to stare.

“I owled the Auror office this morning, saying that I’m not coming back. I think I have made myself perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

“And I’m thinking of seeing Kingsley this week about the potion.”

“What potion?”

“The one Annalise mentioned yesterday,” Harry said. “He could convince the Wizengamot to hear the trans committee out.”

“Be careful. You’ll owe him a favour,” Draco noted.

“I think he owes me more,” Harry shrugged. “Besides, it’s-”

An Apparition crack in the living room cut Harry short. He was about to ask if Draco was expecting somebody, but there was no need.

“DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!” the visitor bellowed, and Harry recognized the voice at once. It was Lucius Malfoy.

Draco jumped, his eyes wide open.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he swore. “How did he find me?”

He ran his hands through his hair and looked at Harry.

“Wish me luck,” he tried to smile. Harry reached out to him and touched his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Draco gave him a thankful look and rushed out of the room; Harry followed, even though he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He stopped at the door of the living room, so that he could hear what was going on.

“What are you doing here?” he heard Draco ask.

“I should ask you the same question!” Mr. Malfoy hissed. “What are you doing in this gutter? This is not a suitable place for you. I have told you multiple times that you should come back to the Manor!”

“What do you want, father?” Draco snapped. “What serious business forced you to step in _this gutter,_ as you say?”

“You know well enough! I have written you at least three letters-”

“You sent me Howlers! _Howlers,_ father! I am not ten years old, and I am not coming over to meet the Greengrasses!” Draco interjected.

“Oh yes you are,” Lucius Malfoy said threateningly, “or I am going to force you.”

Draco let out a bitter laugh.

“Force me to do what? Marry Astoria? There are no archaic laws that would allow you to do so, and you are well aware of that.”

“You ungrateful idiot! You are going to come with me _right now,_ or you can bid your inheritance good-bye!”

Draco laughed again.

“I don’t need your money, father. Not in exchange of my life, no thanks.”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said!” Draco yelled – for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. “I have told you a hundred times, I’ve got a life! I am _not_ coming back to the Manor to be your puppet again!”

“I demand respect-”

“Well, I demand respect too! This is not your place to give out orders. Now please leave!”

Harry heard muffled swearing followed by a crack of Disapparition and hurried into the living room. Draco was panting and clutching his head between his hands; Iris got up from the couch and tried to touch Draco’s shoulder, but he leapt away from her.

“Did you tell him?” he hissed at her.

“No, Draco, I would never!” she exclaimed.

“How did he find me?! Fuck, fuck!” Draco sat down on the edge of the couch, but couldn’t stay calm and stood up again, clutched his shoulders and started pacing. “I have to find out how…”

Harry couldn’t take this anymore. Draco was breathing heavily and seemed to not be able to control himself; Harry knew what this felt like. He stepped close to Draco, stopping the pacing around.

“Hey,” he whispered, looking Draco in the eyes. “It’s okay now, he left.”

Harry took Draco’s hands off his shoulders and noticed that he was trembling.

“It’s okay, it’s over,” Harry repeated.

“It’s not!” Draco pressed his hands to his eyes and rubbed them really hard. “I have to find out, I have to…”

“Hey, hey,” Harry tried to get his attention. “Wanna get out of here?”

Draco let go of his face and nodded. Harry took his hand and Apparated to the first place he could think of – the edge of the lake they had ended in with Ron and Hermione after escaping Gringotts on a dragon.

The chill air made him shiver. He sat down on the ground and dragged Draco with him, hugging him with one arm. Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Better?” Harry asked in a few minutes.

“Yeah, thanks. It feels good to be outside.” Draco opened his eyes and looked around. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Um… outside London, I guess?”

“You don’t know?”

“Not really.”

Malfoy chuckled, and Harry stroked his shoulder, glad that he was back to normal.

“I’d bet anything the House-elves tracked me down,” Draco said in an irritated voice. “I hate it when he takes me by surprise. It always gets to me.”

“You could put up an Anti-Apparition barrier,” Harry suggested.

“I’d have to hire a professional to do so. I work at a bar, you know. None of us have this kind of money.”

Draco picked up some pebbles and tossed them into the lake, one after another.

“I thought you were playing in a band with Tony.”

“I am. We even get paid sometimes.”

“I see. You’re not the Weird Sisters.”

“Thank Merlin, no.”

Harry snorted. With his love of electronic music, Malfoy had really nothing in common with the pop-rock Weird Sisters.

“It’s funny how some people are pushed into marriage, while others can’t marry even if they want to,” Draco said bitterly, rolling a flat pebble in his hand.

Harry bit his lip, trying to find the right words of support.

“No one can force you to get married.”

“No, I know. I’m thinking of Annalise and Finn.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows.

“What about them?”

Draco tossed the last pebble into the lake, where it landed with a loud splash.

“They’ve been together for four years, and I know they’d love to get married, but they can’t, because of Annalise’s papers.”

“Oh,” Harry realised he didn’t even think of them as a couple. “I didn’t know they were together. Anyway, it sucks that they can’t get married.”

Harry shifted on the ground to face Draco.

“Um, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Draco looked up at Harry and smiled slightly. Harry noted to himself that he never smiled that often during their years at Hogwarts.

“How come you don’t want your family heritage?” Harry asked. “I mean, I understand it perfectly, it’s just that you were so… sure about it before.”

Draco gave him a sly look.

“Why did you quit being an Auror? You were so sure about it.”

“It’s not what I thought it was,” Harry answered. “It’s all about being rough and following orders. I’m not good at following orders.”

“Neither am I.”

Harry still didn’t understand, but he didn’t want to push Malfoy, who was already stressed out because of his father. Finally, Draco started speaking.

“I’m gay, Harry. Do you know what it means to a pureblood family when their only heir is gay?”

Harry shook his head, and Draco continued.

“It’s disgrace. They want me to fake a straight life, whatever it costs. And I won’t.”

They sat in silence for some time.

“Do you miss your family?” Harry asked quietly.

“I do,” Draco tossed his hair off his forehead and sat up straight. “But the price of being part of it is too high.”

He blinked and looked down, and Harry wondered if he was about to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking Draco’s hand. “On the bright side, you get to do whatever you want with your hair.”

Draco chuckled, and Harry smiled, glad that he managed to cheer him up with a dumb joke.

“I really like it, by the way,” he brushed a strand of purple hair off Draco’s face.

“Want the same, copycat?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t be able to make it presentable anyway. I’d love a tattoo, though.”

“Copycat.”

“Whatever.”

Draco’s eyes were watery, the edges of his nostrils red, but he was smiling. Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, leaned over and kissed him. Malfoy moved closer and ran his hands down Harry’s back, which sent a shiver down Harry's spine. The kiss became more and more impatient, Harry could feel his heart racing, and Draco was clearly out of breath.

“Wanna go back to my place?” Draco asked, panting.

“Yep,” Harry reacted instantly, and they Disapparated, leaving the edge of the lake as deserted as it was before their arrival.


	4. Chapter 4

The bedsheets were wrinkled uncomfortably underneath Harry, and he turned on his side to face Draco, who was leaning on his elbow, his thin hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead. Harry reached out and touched the freckles on Draco’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers. How come he never noticed them before?

“Damn, all these years I was so sure you were straight,” Draco muttered to himself.

“Well, yeah, I think we can both agree I’m not that straight after all,” Harry snorted.

Draco let out a muffled laugh and looked at Harry in a way he never did before. It wasn’t curiosity, it wasn’t lust; it was… affection. It felt weird and comforting at the same time.

“So when did you know you weren’t straight?” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged.

“I guess I never really thought about it. I always had more pressing issues to deal with, and then there was Ginny.”

“I see.”

“What about you?” Harry asked. “When did you know you were gay?”

“Since I was a kid. Well, I knew I liked boys – I don’t think I knew it was called gay back then.”

“I thought you dated Parkinson when we were fourteen.”

“Everybody makes mistakes.”

Harry tried hard not to laugh. Fortunately for him, somebody knocked on the door. Draco immediately pulled a sheet on the two of them.

“For Merlin’s sake, what?” he snapped at the closed door.

“I hope you remember about your shift,” Harry recognized Iris’s voice. “I’m not paying your part of the rent if you get fired again.”

“Shit. Thanks, Iris!”

Draco closed his eyes for a long second, and Harry wondered in what specific words he was cursing his employer in his head. Finally, Draco sighed and sat up.

“I’ve got to go. Evening shift at the bar,” he explained.

“No problem,” Harry replied.

“By the way,” Draco added, “You might want to give your birth certificate directly to Annalise. I’m not sure if I’ll see her until next Saturday.”

As he spoke, Draco put on a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, grabbed the birth certificate from the desk and handed it to Harry.

“You’ll find her at the Barrel. They’re always there on Sundays.”

Harry nodded and hurried to get dressed as well.

“What’s the Barrel?”

“Technically it’s a friend’s house. But they have a bar there,” Draco answered, slipping into his sneakers. “I’m really sorry, I’m awfully late. Iris can give you the address.”

He kissed Harry hastily on the corner of his lips and ran off. Harry sat on the bed for a bit, playing with the torn corner of his birth certificate. The cat leapt on his knees with a soft purr, and Harry scratched its ears, wondering if the corner was already torn when he got there, or if he should be blaming the fluffy one. He stroked the cat for a bit, then finally got up and went to ask Iris for the address.

  
  


The Barrel turned out to be a regular house, just as Draco had said. Harry tapped his wand on the gate and whispered the password, and the door opened with a light click. From where he stood, Harry heard music and sounds of people speaking. He pushed the gate, stepped inside and found himself in a front yard. As soon as he closed the door behind him, the sounds became much louder; there was a soundproofing charm, Harry figured. On his left, there was what he assumed to be a summer kitchen with old wooden windows, and in front of it, taking up almost half of the yard, there was an empty round fountain - a group of people were sitting on the stone edge, chatting and smoking. On his right, he saw a large pine tree with prominent roots; he could see names carved on the trunk, and there were lots of lights in the lower branches. The house looked shabby, just like the kitchen and the fountain. Harry thought to himself that the blueish paint on the facade had been there for at least two decades. He noticed a porch and a front door, but people seemed to be using the garage on the side of the house as an entrance. Harry hesitated for a minute, but then he saw two guys come out of the garage with pints of beer, and that settled it. He smiled awkwardly at one of the girls by the fountain, who by that point was starting to shoot suspicious looks at him, and entered the building without further hesitation. 

Inside, it was quite crowded; Harry made his way to the bar and looked at the menu. It said as follows:

_A pint for 10 knuts_

_A glass of wine for 7_

_A sandwich for whatever you can afford._

_Chip in for the artist, if you can!_

Harry had never paid less than a sickle for a pint, so he took a silver coin out of his pocket and put it on the counter.

“Can I have a beer, please?” he asked the barmaid, who was busy cutting cheese for the sandwiches. She was about forty years old, as far as Harry could tell, tall and plump.

“Sure,” she put down her knife, wiped her hands on her trousers and started pouring the beer when she saw the sickle on the counter. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you have any knuts? I’m almost out of change.”

“Um,” Harry hesitated a bit and turned around just in time to see a black guy wearing high heels hit the stage. “Can I chip in for the singer instead?”

“Perfect choice!” the barmaid put the pint in front of him, looked up to see his face for the first time and froze. “Have I seen you here before?”

“No, a friend told me about this place.”

“You are an Auror, aren’t you?”

“No, not anymore.”

She gave him a long look, and Harry wondered if she believed him.

“All right. See you around,” she seemed to have calmed down a little and went back to slicing the cheese.

Harry spotted Annalise standing next to Finn on the other side of the dance floor and made his way through the crowd towards them, as the guy on stage started singing a new song:

_I just took a DNA test, turns out I'm 100% that bitch  
Even when I'm crying crazy  
Yeah, I got boy problems, that's the human in me  
Bling bling, then I solve 'em, that's the goddess in me*_

Harry chuckled at the lyrics and caught himself thinking that despite the suspicious attitude of the barmaid he liked this place. The people around looked chill and happy, the beer was good, the guy on stage was dancing his ass off – Harry made a mental note to add another sickle to the “artist fund” or whatever it was called.

“Hey,” Harry said, as soon as Annalise and Finn were close enough to hear him.

“Oh, hi!” Annalise smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“Draco told me you were usually here on Sundays. I came to give you this,” Harry explained and handed her the certificate. “Take your time, I don’t need it right now.”

“Thanks,” she put the folded paper in the pocket of her jacket.

“What is this place?” Harry asked.

“This is the queer safe space,” Finn said. “We’ve been going here since Steph opened the bar five years ago.”

“We didn’t know each other back then, we actually met here,” Annalise added and squeezed Finn in a brief hug.

“Well… yeah, I guess you can say so,” Finn chuckled, then caught her fingers and kissed them.

Harry smiled, thinking to himself that the scene was really sweet, but didn’t say it out loud – they had just met, and he was afraid that would sound embarrassing.

“This is a Muggle song,” he said instead, nodding in the direction of the scene. “I don’t think wizards know about DNA tests, or am I wrong?”

“Yes and no,” Finn pulled out some tobacco and a filter and started to roll a cigarette. “There’s a series of spells which basically lets you know stuff about your heredity, but you’re right, only Muggles call that a DNA test.”

“I guess I’ve heard more Muggle music in ten days then in the ten previous years,” Harry said and took a sip from his glass.

“No way,” Annalise shook her head fiercely. “I bet you have heard…”

A loud bang on the gate made her jump. Finn swore, and Harry saw him draw his wand.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked as Annalise grabbed her purse. Another bang followed. The music stopped, and Harry noticed that people started to move towards the back of the garage.

“It’s the Aurors. We have to go,” Finn clenched Annalise’s hand. “There is a way out in the back. You coming?”

Harry frowned.

“Is there something illegal going on here?”

Annalise shook her head.

“No, they’re just being dicks.”

A last loud bang – Harry recognized Bombarda – and the gate flew open. A group of Aurors marched into the yard, wands out, and started casting spells at whoever was still within reach; people started running, and Harry got a weird sense that the situation wasn’t new to anyone: the Aurors were too calm, the people at the bar dodged the spells too well. This was definitely not something Harry’d expected to happen. He felt his blood rush up to his cheeks. He couldn’t think of an excuse of what was going on: even if the bar wasn’t paying its taxes, the people on the dance floor had nothing to do with it. But the Aurors continued to shoot _Impedimenta_ and _Petrificus Totalus_ all over the place.

“HEY!” Harry yelled at the Auror in charge, stepping out of the garage and feeling his wand under his sleeve. “Emmet, what’s going on here?!”

Emmet blinked in surprise when he saw Harry.

“Stop it! What the hell are you doing?” Harry demanded.

“This is a standard operation, Mr. Potter,” Emmet responded as he made a gesture to the other Aurors to back off. “These people are troublemakers…”

“What are you talking about?! It’s a bar!”

“An illegal bar,” Emmet retorted.

Harry took a deep breath. This was no explanation – he was sure Emmet was aware of that.

“Illegal lucrative activity is under the jurisdiction of the Treasury Department, not the Auror office,” he stated.

Emmet crossed him arms on his chest.

“Are you protecting criminals, Mr. Potter?”

Harry heard someone approach from behind; he was getting ready to cast a spell, but this was just the barmaid.

“This bar is perfectly legal,” she said. “I have told you this at least four time this year. Stop terrorizing my clients, or I will file another complaint.”

She waved her wand, and a parchment appeared out of thin air. Harry ran his eyes down the long roll – she was right. The bar was perfectly legal. Harry turned back to Emmet.

“Do you have a warrant?” he asked calmly.

“These are the Head Auror’s orders.”

“Does the Head Auror have a warrant?”

Emmet remained silent.

“So I assume what is happening here is abuse of authority,” Harry crossed his arms just like Emmet did. “Get out, all of you.”

“I don’t take orders from you!” Emmet growled.

“Oh, do you want me to get the Minister here? Will that be convincing enough?” Harry snapped.

Emmet scowled at Harry. Harry glared back, and Emmet ended up swearing and walking away, followed by the other Aurors.

“Yeah, get the fuck out of here!” somebody spat out from behind.

The barmaid – and, as Harry figured, the owner of the place – turned to Harry and said,

“You are always welcome here, Mr. Potter.”

Harry forced himself to smile and tried to ignore the sinking feeling that Bennet was going to be pissed as hell, which meant that this was just the beginning of their problems.

\-----------------------

*the lyrics are from the song _Truth Hurts_ by Lizzo. It’s great, listen to it! :D


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m not in the mood to stay any longer,” said Annalise. Finn put his arm around her, as she was methodically squashing what was left of her cigarette against the stone fountain - they were sitting there since the Aurors were gone.

“We can go home,” Finn suggested, but Annalise shrugged.

“I don’t know, we just got here,” she finally cast _Evanesco_ on the cigarette bud and looked up. “We can still hang out.”

“What do you want to do, Harry?” Finn asked.

Harry looked around. The music was playing again, but the atmosphere wasn’t the same anymore: nobody seemed to want to dance; instead, people were standing here and there in small groups, speaking in a low voice. Harry caught himself thinking that he too would rather leave.

“We could hang out somewhere else,” he said. Annalise wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t really like other bars. I suppose we could all go to our place, but we have nothing to eat, I guess…”

“Or we could go to my place. I’ve got food and beer and chess…” Harry suggested.

“Sold,” Annalise jumped to her feet and headed to the gate, dragging Finn with her. Harry chuckled and followed.

“Check mate. You owe me another beer.”

“Damn!”

Harry looked at the board, unable to understand how she could have won again. When Harry had Apparated them straight to the living room of the house on Grimmauld place – in order to avoid an awkward encounter with Mrs. Black’s portrait – Finn sat down on the couch and announced that for the sake of their relationship he never played chess with Annalise, and now Harry understood why. Nobody likes losing all the time.

“ _Accio_ beer.”

Harry caught the bottles that flew into the living room from the kitchen and handed one to Annalise.

“So, what is this house?” she asked, opening the bottle against the edge of the table. “Is this the Potter family house or something?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, my parents’ house was destroyed during the war.”

“I know – I figured maybe it’s your grandparents’ house. Since it obviously is an old pureblood house,” Annalise explained.

“What makes you think it’s a pureblood house?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Well, I come from a pureblood family. Not rich like the Malfoys, but… Never mind. I guess I’m mistaken.”

“No, you are actually right. My godfather left me this house, and he was pureblood.”

Annalise nodded and looked around.

“It’s just the details. My grandparents used to have the exact same wallpaper,” she gestured at the wall on her left, right above the fireplace. “They used to brag about it for years. It was charmed to keep the colours vivid or something.”

Harry looked at the wallpaper: some corners started to stick out, and a thick layer of dust seemed to have become part of the once greenish pattern.

“Well, looks like the Blacks didn’t get their money’s worth, did they,” he stated mockingly.

“The Blacks?”

“Yeah, um… Sirius Black was my godfather.”

“Oh.”

The silence was a bit awkward. Annalise sipped from her bottle and glanced at Finn. Harry started putting the figures back into the box.

“What is it?” he finally asked, hoping he didn’t do anything wrong.

Finn sighed and glanced back at Annalise. She rolled her eyes, meaning to be dramatic, but Harry wasn’t that easily fooled.

“Was it something I said?” he insisted.

“No,” Annalise sighed. “It’s just that… the Blacks…”

“They remind her of her family. And not in a good way,” Finn finished for her.

“Oh. Is your family related to the Blacks?”

“Distantly. Like all of the wizarding families, really,” Annalise found a pencil in her bag and was now trying to put her hair up in a bun. “The thing is, a lot of pureblood families are, so to say, traditional. In simple words, racist and sexist.”

“And transphobic,” Finn added.

“Like Draco’s family,” Harry said.

Annalise finally managed to put her hair up and nodded.

“Exactly. My parents were just the same. And the Blacks – they were one of the worst. I’ve heard stuff, trust me. So it’s kind of weird to be here.”

Harry frowned and looked at the shabby walls once again.

“I get it. I used to hate this house so much. Sirius hated it, too. Frankly, maybe that’s why I still haven’t done anything to make it feel like home. I just got rid of the creepy stuff when the old elf died.”

“I hope you didn’t get yourself cursed in the process,” Annalise said. It seemed like she was feeling better again.

“Nope. I’m lucky that the only thing Mrs. Black’s portrait can do is yell,” Harry chuckled. “If she was able to use spells, I’d be dead the minute I walked in here for the first time.”

“Ugh, portraits. You can threaten to put her of fire, it tends to shut them up for a while,” Annalise suggested and smiled in the most innocent way possible before taking a sip from her bottle.

Harry let out a nervous laugh, imagining the scene.

“I should probably try,” he summoned a bag of crisps from the kitchen and decided to change the subject. “So, the two of you met at the Barrel?”

Finn grinned and was about to start speaking, when the flames in the fireplace cracked and went green. Before Harry had the time to react, Ron and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.

“Maybe another time,” Finn said in a low voice, and Harry nodded as he got up to hug Hermione, then Ron.

“Sorry mate, didn’t know you had company,” Ron shrugged apologetically. “We arrived early and thought we’d stop by.”

“No problem,” Harry assured him. “Ron, Hermione, meet Annalise and Finn.”

“Hi,” Hermione said without looking up – she was searching for something in her bottomless purse. She finally gave up with an exasperated sigh and added, “Harry, we brought you some souvenirs, but I honestly can’t handle looking for them right now. You mind?”

“Not at all! I think I’m out of beer, though… Let’s see… _Accio_ wine!” Harry waved his wand, hoping there was another bottle in the cupboard. A loud noise down the hall indicated that the spell worked. Hermione let out a muffled “Yes!” when she saw a bottle of red fly into Harry’s hand.

Ron sat down on the couch next to Finn, while Harry took some of the empty beer bottles and put them in front of Hermione.

“Could you?” he asked.

Hermione took out her wand and transfigured the bottles into wine glasses.

“I swear, wine glasses will be your Christmas present this year, Harry,” she said. “Transfigured beer bottles are just gross.”

“How do you three know each other?” Ron asked as he was pouring the wine into the glasses.

“What about you three?” Finn interjected.

“Enough with the celebrity jokes, please,” Annalise said, but Ron didn’t mind, nor did Harry.

“Long story, in both cases,” Harry said. “Now what’s really interesting, Ron: I bet you Mrs. Black’s portrait that Annalise will beat you in chess.”

Ron put the bottle down on the table with a loud clank, his eyebrows lifted.

“Really?”

“I didn’t win once.”

“No way!”

Annalise swirled her glass of wine.

“I wouldn’t mind another game,” she said.

Finn chuckled. Hermione looked intrigued. Ron took the chess box from the floor and put it on the table.

“Okay. But if I lose, you might as well know it’s because I don’t want that fucking portrait.”

“Unbelievable.”

Harry looked at the board, once again, impressed. Annalise was rolling a cigarette, and Ron was still in the process of accepting his defeat.

“From now on, you are the best chess player I’ve ever met,” Harry declared. “Sorry, mate.”

“I want a rematch!” demanded Ron.

Finn laughed and picked up Annalise’s purse as they were getting ready to leave.

“That’s a slippery slope,” he said. “I stopped playing against her years ago.”

“I agree. You always were a bad loser,” Hermione noted, getting up as well. “I am not passing all my free time playing chess with you just so you could win the next time.”

“Look who’s talking!” exclaimed Ron. “You couldn’t sleep for a whole damn week when you thought Amanda _might have chosen_ a better approach in her article!”

“That’s work, it’s completely different!”

Harry smiled to himself. Ron and Hermione were always fun to listen to when fighting.

“See you, Harry,” Annalise waved before stepping in the fireplace with Finn. Harry waved back, and they disappeared in the flames.

Hermione and Ron were still bickering; Harry yawned and patted Ron on the shoulder.

“C’mon, guys, this conversation is far from new.”

Hermione turned to Harry and gave him a curious look.

“Are you going to tell us who these people are?” she asked. “You hardly invite anyone here.”

“Well… Remember I went to a festival last week?”

Harry took a deep breath and told them everything: about the music, the casual and strange encounter with Draco; he also told them about the party at the flat, the Barrel and the Auror raid.

“That’s why we ended up playing chess here,” he finished hastily.

“I still don’t get it,” Ron admitted. “I mean they are nice and all, but why exactly are you hanging out with Malfoy and his friends?”

Harry rubbed his neck nervously.

“I guess Draco and I are dating now.”

Hermione blinked. Ron burst into laughter, and Hermione gave him an irritated nudge. Ron managed to calm down a bit.

“Dating Malfoy! Damn, Harry! After all these years, you are still there to make sure my life isn’t boring,” he commented, still chuckling.

“Ron, stop it!” Hermione interrupted him. “Is this really the part you’re focusing on? Harry, did you say the Aurors raided the queer bar?”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the first time.”

Ron stopped smiling.

“Wow. Why would they do that? And how come we’ve never heard about these raids?” he wondered.

“No idea,” Harry replied. “Anyway, that’s fucked up. I’m going to see Kingsley tomorrow.”

“Owl me if you need any help.”

“I will. Thanks, Hermione.”

Hermione gave Harry a quick hug, and they Disapparated. Harry went upstairs to the bedroom and found an owl waiting for the window to be opened. He let the bird in, it dropped a note, made an angry noise and flew away. Harry recognized Draco’s handwriting.

 _“If you’re not asleep, do you mind flooing me for 5 minutes?”_ – the note said.

Harry frowned. It’s only been a few hours. What could have happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :3  
> I've been having a hard time lately, so I've decided I have to finish this fic before posting it online. So the next time you see an update it's going to be the whole fic :) thanks for reading and see you in a bit!


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